


Jack drabble

by aboredwriter



Category: Beyblade, Metal Fight Beyblade | Beyblade: Metal Fusion, メタルファイトベイブレードZEROG | Beyblade: Shogun Steel | Metal Fight Beyblade: Zero G
Genre: Gen, Revisions are welcome, i hope you enjoy!!, idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 05:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboredwriter/pseuds/aboredwriter





	Jack drabble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@littlepurplewakiya on tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40littlepurplewakiya+on+tumblr).



**Jack~**

It was late now. How late, Jack wasn't sure. It didn't really matter now. What mattered was the array of colors in front of him, drenching his senses in a range of emotions that he couldn't quite identify. He could see a spot of red paint on the canvas-- _when had he used red? The plan was for this one to consist of only blues and purples. Oh well, art never seemed to go according to plan anyway--_ and knew that it had to mean _something_ to him.

_Anger._

That was what the color red symbolized. _Anger. Danger. Power. Blood._

But looking at the piece, he felt none of that. What he felt was...lost, disoriented. _Confused._ The canvas carried with it a blur of feelings that he had to sort through, taking him on an adventure to a place he couldn't quite name, deep in the back of his mind where his wildest ideas would roam. The background color had reminded him of the sky: seemingly everlasting, full of mysteries and questions that humans would never even get the chance to ask from where they stood, staring up from the ground. The purples only seemed to add to the mysteriousness to it, like subplots added onto a much bigger storyline, full of surprises that he couldn't even imagine, guiding his mind through the twists and turns of a maze without an exit. Maybe he belonged in his fantasies. Maybe staying lost in this world would be better than to sit through another droning lecture from Ziggurat or any more of Zeo and Damian's daily bickering. Maybe---

"Jack? Are you coming?" 

Who was that? Damian? How long had he been there? He turned his head, absorbing the sight of his friend, standing in the doorway of his bedroom--there wasn't much to look at, Damian wasn't exactly _huge_ by any definition of the word. 

"You said you'd meet me outside at one. It's three-thirty."

"Oh...I guess I just got caught up in something." 

"You guess?" Damian smirked, "how do you ' _get caught up'_ for two and a half---Jesus Christ, you did all that today?"

Jack looked around his room. Canvases, saturated in splatters of paint, lined seemingly every corner of it. His blood seemed to stop moving for a second from the shock. _Had_ he done all that in one day? Surely, that amount of work would take weeks to get accomplished. Months, maybe. He had gotten so lost in his own thoughts since waking up, so whisked away by his own ideas and rattled by the desperate, adrenaline-inducing need to work. To create. To feel alive. 

"I...just kind of...got overwhelmed with colors." 

"Colors?"

"The ones in my head," Jack explained, as if it were normal.

"Whatever. Let's just get going."


End file.
